


Miss The Magic Of These Good Old Days

by LaPetiteLouve



Series: Familia Ante Omnia [5]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Car Accidents, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, it's minor though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:01:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22119715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaPetiteLouve/pseuds/LaPetiteLouve
Summary: Time is weird.  It means you have to let go of things.  Like the good old days and the bad habits.  Jonny's working through it.
Relationships: Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews
Series: Familia Ante Omnia [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1549498
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34





	Miss The Magic Of These Good Old Days

**Author's Note:**

> So this was inspired by a comment, a shit ton of bad luck and starting the new year with a loss. But the pack survives. right? RIGHT?! everything's great. So, I dont know how to write angst? or maybe I do, but i feel like i suck at it. feed back on this would be hella appreciated. title from Good Old Days by Macklemore. oh wait, LOTS OF SWEARING more so than usual

Jonny loaded another set of weights onto hte bar and glowered at it, like ti was personally responsible for everything. The losses, the production. His production. The injuries, all the fucking injuries. Saader, Shawzy, Calvin, Drake, fucking Seabs. He sat down on the bench, head in his hands. One shoulder and two hip surgeries for his mentor. His packmate. Since the beginning. And now possibly Robin, with his knee? Fuck. 

"'S lot of weight for a post-practice workout," Kaner said. 

Jonny looked up into baby blue eyes, stern and soft at the same time. "Thought you took the pups home?"

"I did. Forty-five minutes ago," Kaner tilted his head to the side. "And here you are. Lost in time. Hope you don't plan on overworking yourself, because you got it in your head that the C means you're automatically to blame for everything. C'mon Jonny, don't be dumb. Let's go home. Gotta make sure Shawzy isn't trying to talk Drake into sneaking out with him so they can 'brave the dangerous world together.'"

Jonny growled, eyes flashing tints of red. "You don't have a letter! Don't fucking patronize me and tell me what to do with mine!" he snapped. 

Kaner blinked, unimpressed. "Believe it or not, you ass. I do have a letter now. And I will for the rest of the fucking season! Jonny, put the fucking weights back and let's go so Paulie can go home too!"

"What are you even doing here?" Jonny scoffed. "Except to grate my nerves and tell me shit I don't need to hear."

"Well, I was gonna ask if my fucking mate wanted to go out for lunch or pick up something for the pack. Or fucking do anything for that matter. But since we're on the topic of what you need and what you don't. Maybe you should try letting yourself relax a bit, instead of trying to bench press the entire fucking weight rack!"

"What do you know about letting loose," Jonny narrowed his eyes, hands clenched. "What the hell do you know about that, huh? Ever since-"

"Hey... guys," Paulie interrupted hesitantly. "Go work... whatever this is out somewhere else? Please?"

"Sorry Paulie. Let me help with the weights. Then me and this big idiot will get out of your way," Kaner sighed, a decimating glare sent Jonny's way.

"Don't worry about it. I'll handle it. Just, uh, have a nice day?" Paulie winced. 

"You too," Kaner grinned with a full-on media smile. His expression darkened as he looked at Jonny, though. "Let's go."

Jonny glared rebelliously as Kaner's back and begrudgingly followed him out. He grabbed his stuff and trailed after Kaner. He approached the parking lot and raised an eyebrow. "Where's your car?"

"Stromer and Cat dropped me off before they went to do whatever it is they do. Stop pouting and unlock the door," Kaner tossed over his shoulder, strutting away. 

The ride home was... painful, to say the least. Kaner refused to let Jonny drive his own car. So Jonny sat in the passenger seat and stewed in silence. He felt the way Kaner occasionally glanced at him, brow furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. Jonny knew he had something to say. But, he didn't. So Jonny didn't. As soon as they pulled into the driveway, Jonny shoved his door open, grabbed his stuff and slammed the car door shut. He tossed the front door open and closed it, toeing his shoes off. He approached the living room, ignoring the way Kirby paused MarioKart and glanced up at him apprehensively. "Where is everyone?" Jonny asked. 

"Uh, Seabs and Duncs are upstairs. I think they're on the phone with Murph? Maybe Cal? I dunno. They're doing their weird communal defense thing," Shawzy shrugged, adjusting the sunglasses over his eyes. 

Jonny's chest tightened just looking at him. _Still got light sensitivity, huh?_ "Okay, where's everyone else?"

"Boqs is with Kuba and Alex, they went to the movie theatre. Um, Drake's taking a nap. And Stromer and Brinks went out," Kirby answered.

"Where's Kaner?" Saader asked, looking up from his phone, ankle propped up on a pillow on the coffee table. 

Jonny had a rule about feet on the coffee table. But he couldn't even look at Saader's ankle. That's his rookie. Sure, Saader's not considered a rookie, hasn't been for a while... but that's Jonny's rookie. His rookie is hurt. His packmates are hurt. "Dunno," he finally said. 

"Oh boy. Congrats Dacher. You've just unlocked a new level. It's called Can-you-get-Uncle-Shawzy-and-Uncle-Saader-away-from-Mom-and-Dad-quickly-because-they're-fighting?" Shawzy moved to stand up. 

Jonny huffed. "You two aren't leaving the house, especially with your scrambled brain, Shawz."

"Yay," Shawzy cheered weakly. "I love house arrest."

"If Kaner and Tazer are Mom and Dad, why are you two uncles?" Kirby furrowed a brow. 

"Shit, you're right. We're brothers! Now help a brother out," Shawzy amended. 

"I'm... just gonna play more video games," Kirby slowly returned his focus to the screen. 

"You traitor," Shawzy whispered. "That's not bros." He turned to Jonny. "So you and Kaner still fighting?"

"Someone's being a little jerk," Kaner interjected smoothly, flouncing into the living room. 

"Oh fuck off! You're not perfect, so I don't understand why you've suddenly found your high horse," Jonny pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"'Cause I have a letter and I'd like a little more help out there!" Kaner retorted. 

"Oh, you need help with your letter? Imagine having a C! It doesn't help with all the injuries. So I would help you out, but I can't help you if I can't help me!" Jonny exploded. "I tried to help myself and you just had to interrupt!"

"Jonathan, that's called fucking hurting and overworking yourself!"

"Like you haven't ever done that to yourself either! I distinctly remember the cast story from the convention," Jonny seethed. That story sickened him. Even today. "I see where you get it from."

Kaner bit his lip, wearing some emotion Jonny didn't have the patience to decipher. 

"You don't get to tell me what to do. You don't get to tell me how to handle the C. You don't get to tell me how to help myself. Don't you fucking dare tell me hypocritical shit because I don't fucking give a shit," Jonny muttered. 

Kaner ducked his gaze, shoulders sagging. "Okay. This isn't going anywhere. I'm done with this. Just... okay, I'm going over to Sharpy's. We can pick this up later," he clenched his jaw. 

"Oh yeah, just leave when things are hard, eh? I stuck with you all those years ago and you just leave me now, huh?" Jonny jeered. He narrowed his eyes as Kaner paused to take a breath, hand closed around the door knob. Jonny looked away and waited. Waited for the verbal backlash. For the screaming. None came. Only the quiet sound of a door closing. 

He left. 

"Fuck this shit," Jonny rubbed his temple, now standing alone in the living room. "I'm going out," he announced. "If I find out that one of you guys did something that you weren't supposed to later, I will fucking duct tape you to a chair!" Jonny grabbed his keys and wallet and left without another word.

He spent the day driving around Chicago, rolling his eyes at the sound of honking horns. He loved his city. But, sometimes, driving in it really fucking sucked. Even after so many years of it. Eventually, Jonny's hunger got the best of him and he found a place, ordering some chicken and a side salad. It tasted bland. Not because it was bad, he'd had this place before and it was great. It just tasted bland. And gross. And weird. And just, no. No. Jonny wanted chicken, and he got chicken and it's time to eat said chicken. He pulled his phone out and scrolled through social media for a bit. He sent a text off to Kaner too, still feeling combative and determined to have the last word. He shut his phone off after. Jonny finished his food and leaned back in the chair. He had a whole day to himself. What do to, what to do. He vaguely remembered Kaner mentioning something about heavy rain. And looking outside at the clouds, he might've been onto something. He paid the bill and checked his watch. 3:13pm. Okay, so he might've spent more time than he thought. He headed outside and made it to his car right as it started to drizzle. 

Jonny drove some more. Found a little coffee shop once the rain picked up. he bought a small decaf coffee and a gluten free croissant. He signed the receipt for the cashier and found a booth in the corner, away from prying eyes. He sat. And thought. And snacked. And watched the rain fall. Kaner wasn't wrong. But neither was he. When you're Captain, you're inherently responsible for the team. He can't even remember why they fought. Kaner said something and he said something back. It went back and forth, back and forth like usual. But much worse, so much worse. Not one of their biggest fights, not even close, but this one hurt just as bad. Kaner's still tearing it up, still producing, still playing because they need him to. Jonny needs him to. Jonny needs to step the fuck up and close the twenty-three-point gap between them. Jonny needs to be better. Needs to play better, to produce, to help, to lead better. He needs to do a lot of things. Rationally, he knew slumps happen. Cup droughts happen. _Still better than Toronto or Detroit,_ he thought bitterly. Kaner though. Kaner's still doing so well. So fucking Showtime. On brand, all the time. 

"Uh, sir?" the cashier tapped the table in front of Jonny. He placed another cup of coffee and a second croissant in front of him. "You, erm, you looked like you could use this. It's on the house. I know the Hawks have been struggling, and well, everyone needs a break, right?" he smiled shyly. 

"Oh, thanks a lot bud. Let me pay for it, it's okay," Jonny pulled his wallet out. 

"No, no, on the house. But, I mean, do you think you could sign something else for me?" he shifted on his feet. 

"Definitely. Bring it over and I'll sign it," Jonny nodded earnestly. He smiled wider as the kid brightened and hurried off. Jonny sipped the coffee and stared out the window, contemplative. The shop was empty. People either trying to get home, or were smart and stayed home. He looked down as the cashier placed a picture on the table. "Is this you?" he examined it closer. A Hawks game, UC, two parents, one kid, a date written in the corner. June 15, 2015. 

"Yeah, my birthday. Sick birthday present, right?" 

"Name's Simon, right?" Jonny clarified, signing the photograph with a silver marker and personalizing it, just a bit.

"Yeah. You have no idea how much I appreciate this. Thank you, thank you so much, Sir. Hockey means so much to me and my folks. Thank you," Simon gushed, eyes bright. "You just made my year."

Jonny smiled. "Good, I'm glad." He stood up and shook Simon's hand. "See you around, Kid. Thanks for the coffee. Go Hawks," he picked up his things and headed for the exit. 

"Go Hawks! Good luck, Mr. Toews. Kane and Toews for days!" Simon called after him. 

Jonny chuckled all the way to the car. He placed the croissant on the passenger seat and the coffee in the cup holder. Jonny remembered his phone and turned the device back on. Immediately, it dinged with all the texts he missed. And three missed calls and two voicemails. All from Kaner. He listened to the first voicemail, sent earlier today, after practice. 

"Hey Jonny, I'm on my way to pick you up. Probably overworking yourself and don't have your phone on you. Eh, I'll just surprise you, I guess. Wanna go out for lunch? Actually, we can figure it out when I get there. Love ya!" 

Jonny licked his lips. He missed Kaner. A lot. Fuck, today's such a weird day. What the hell? He steeled himself and played the second one, right after he sent that text to Kaner. 

"Fuck you. Fuck you for comparing my destructive tendencies to my childhood. fuck you for accusing me of shit you also do. Fuck you for bringing things up when you told me they were gone and buried. You fucking promised! You said you'd be there for me if I ever needed you and when I try to help you, you bring that shit up? Uncool! Un-fucking-cool!"

"Well shit," Jonny hissed under his breath. He unlocked his phone and read through the flurry of texts, mainly from Kaner, some from Seabs and Duncs, both trying to get him to reply to Kaner. He read the texts sent during his lunch first. 

_You were the one being dumb_

_and I know you were trying to rile me up_

_that's why I left without a word jackass_

_fuck, we're supposed to be the mature ones_

_but fuck no, someone had to get all pissy_

_whatever_

_just fuck off_

Then the texts sent when it started to rain.

_Where are you?_

_please don't be driving it's heavy rain_

_don't drive if you can't see the road_

_please be safe? for me?_

Then an hour after that, while Jonny was only half way through sulking. 

_Jonny, I got in a car accident._

_The rain stopped by the roads are wet_

_everything's okay I promise_

_Why aren't you replying?_

_i'm fine, but the cars totaled_

_Jonny?_

_Where are you?_

_Come home soon?_

Then fifteen minutes ago. 

_Fuck, do you even care?_

_for fucks sake where are you_

_forget it_

_go fuck yourself_ asshole.

Fuck. Oh fuck. Major Fuck. All the fucks. Jonny's royally screwed. Kaner probably thinks he's purposely ignoring him. No, Jonny just turned his phone off. Oh shit. Jonny chugged his coffee and started the car. He needed to get home. Home. That's where he's supposed to be. 

Jonny barged into the house, frantic and slightly crazed. He wandered into the kitchen and saw Duncs and Seabs at the counter, chopping vegetables.

"You," Seabs pointed the knife at him. Oh damn, okay. "You are in deep shit."

"Where is he? Is he okay? What the hell happened? I turned my phone off," Jonny asked, heart thundering in his head, loud enough to make him anxious and paranoid. 

"He's okay, upstairs in your room. No injuries. Some T-boned his Hummer. He's fine but his car needs fixing," Duncs assured. 

"And the pack?" Jonny queried. 

"Everyone's home. But Shawzy doesn't know how to keep his mouth closed so he exaggerated your fight, so everyone knows and everyone's hiding in The Den," Duncs answered. "And Sharpy knows-"

"Which is infinitely worse than anything else in the entire world," Seabs finished. "Go apologize to your boy, we're taking care of dinner."

"Seabs, should you even be doing anything right now?" Jonny wondered a little belatedly. 

"That's what I asked," Duncs mumbled. 

"I'm getting surgery, I'm not an invalid," Seabs deadpanned. 

"Well..." Duncs trailed off. "Hey, don't waste food!" he claimed and Seabs lobbed a bell pepper at him. 

Jonny left the kitchen and jogged upstairs to The Den. He pushed his way in and raised an eyebrow at the circle they made on the floor, despite the amount of couches and mattresses in this room. "Hey boys, Seabs and Duncs are making dinner. So... you wanna pick some movies and we'll eat in the living room?"

"Okay, but like, only if you... you know," Stromer gestured wildly in the vague direction of Jonny's room. 

"Wow Stromer," Brinksy laughed. "Real mature." 

"No, No, Mom and Dad have to fix their shit first. He's right," Shawzy defended. 

Jonny fondly shook his head. "I hate you all." He turned on his heel and laughed quietly at the chorus of "love yous" he got in return. He took a breath and pushed the bedroom door open. "Pat?" he called gently. 

The lump on the bed twitched, and Pat lifted his head out of the blanket. "Jon?" he asked, sounding so soft and delicate, like he didn't just tell Jonny to fuck off earlier. 

Jonny crowded him on the bed, using his bigger body to box Patrick in. He pressed kisses to any skin he could reach, any resolution to stay angry and petty crumbled. He met Patrick's gaze, the raw, hurt blue and the unshed tears. He did that to him. "I'm sorry," he cleared his throat. "I'm so fucking sorry. I turned my phone off. I didn't see your texts. Fuck, are you okay, Baby?" Jonny pawed at the blankets. Needed to see. Needed that proof that patrick wasn't hurt. He checked his wrists, his hands, looked for bruises, broken bones, anything. And Patrick let him. Jonny sat back, satisfied, but so much more guilty. "You kept... kept asking me to come back and I just didn't even see it."

Patrick hummed, hands resting on Jonny's massive thighs. "You came back though. We always come back to each other, right? Never one without the other, all that stuff."

"You sure? You promise you're okay?" Jonny murmured, hand resting on his cheek. 

"Mm, yeah Babe," Patrick smiled, leaning into his touch. "But we need to talk. Next time it gets bad, I need to know. Let me help. I don't like being kept in the dark until the last minute and neither do you. I'd let you work out, but let me help you with it. We have a system. We supervise each other because we're both bad when it comes to shit like this."

"We need to be better," Jonny whispered. "We have to be better for you."

"It's a new decade. It is what it is. But we can't if you're not in your right mind. Our system's been good, just needs support by both ends, okay? Today was the kind of vintage shit we would try and pull and it never worked until someone pulled our heads out of our asses," Patrick insisted, thumb rubbing circles into Jonny's thigh. 

"I know Peeks. I hear you. I just. That was our decade, Peeks. That dynasty, those years. Ours."

"We've got three. The young guys have to go through the motion. It's part of it. We knew it'd be like this eventually. No one stays on top for ever. But the kids, they still have to work their way up. They could be great. Every single one of them. Like Drake, he played top line minutes with us for a while last year. You can't control their careers."

"Hey guys, food's ready and we have the movies up," Brinksy poked his head in. 

"We'll be down in a minute. Start without us," Patrick replied, refusing to look away from Jonny. "I want one more with you. I want everything with you. Even if you get a little bullheaded once and a while. You're it for me."

This is what Jonny's been avoiding. Of course, Patrick just ripped that bag open. That talk. The one for after hockey. He doesn't want to think about it. Not yet. But it won't stay buried forever. "I want you too. I always want you. And one more cup would be fucking great. But I'm down for whatever as long as you're there with me."

"1988, Baby," Patrick whooped, leaning up for a quick kiss. "C'mon, enough emotional bullshit. It's pack time and I'm hungry." 

Jonny laughed and climbed off Patrick. He tugged him in for another peck before stepping down the stairs. He listened as Patrick recounted his day to him, content to let Patrick get his food for him. Nothing compares to winning the Stanley Cup three times. Nothing compares to the Dynasty. But this? This is different. And this is Jonny's. Forever.

**Author's Note:**

> if you have feedback, comments, ideas or wanna talk, let me know in the commentssssss. Cheers!


End file.
